


The Knight and the Amazon

by MiaLyn



Category: Justice League - All Media Types, Wonder Woman (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, First Meetings, Minor Character Death, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-10 03:24:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12902904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiaLyn/pseuds/MiaLyn
Summary: The Princess of the Amazon went missing after a disastrous war against Ares' army. Far away from Themyscira, Bruce Wayne finds an injured woman on his lawn.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little something that had been on my mind for a while. It started with this idea: how would Bruce Wayne react if he found an amnesiac Diana in his garden? Here, Diana never joined the JL in episode one, but the JL was formed nonetheless. Hope you enjoy :)
> 
> Unbeta-ed work, so all mistakes are mine. And I don't own JL, or WonderBat would be uncontested.

 

* * *

**The Amazon and the Knight**

**1.**

The air stunk of smoke and blood. The burnt grounds still felt hot from the heat of the magic fires. Bodies of fallen warriors had been buried in rows with honor while the corpses of monsters and foes thrown into pits for later cremation.

Artemis snarled in anger as she saw one of their enemies still twisting. A deadly injured Minotaur was crushing the freshly finished grave of her sisters, his hand extended for something beyond his reach. She grabbed her sword and plunged it into the creature's neck. Blood oozed from the wound and the monster groaned one last time before falling limp.

"That was  _gross_."

The redhead Amazon stared at the speaker in disbelief.

"We've been slaughtering Ares' beasts all day long and you find  _this_  gross?"

The brunette she was addressing merely shrugged. Her forearms and legs had been bandaged and her pupils seemed a little dilated, most likely from a drug delivered from Egeria to soothe the pain. Artemis sighed heavily and kicked the creature's body away. Her heart tightened at the sight before her: the monster had nearly destroyed the tombs of Pallas and Io. It was hard to believe those two had been bickering these days ago over the kill of a bear and had now joined the Elysium Fields.

"Oh no…"

Artemis cast a glance at her companion. Her eyes were filling with tears. The redhead looked away. Alexa would have hugged the girl in comfort. Niobe would have found the right words to sooth her soul. Diana would…she didn't want to think of Diana right now.

"They were Amazons, Donna. They lived and died the Amazon way. Don't feel sorry for their fate."

Donna crouched next to the tombs. She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer to Hades. Artemis watched her do with a hint of pride. She hand been one of those who had vetoed against the little orphan's presence on the isle –after Aresia's folly, it hadn't seemed wise to welcome another human girl amongst them. But Diana had defended her and Hippolyta had caved; and ten years later, Donna had shown as much bravery and skills as any Amazon sister in battle.

"You fought well," she said eventually. "Do not feel guilty; you deserve your survival."

Donna lifted her teary eyes to meet her.

"Diana was the bravest of us all," she whispered. "And yet she still died."

Diana. Their proud princess. Their savior. Their greatest loss. Artemis tightened her grip on the handle of her sword and closed her eyes. She could still picture their princess wearing proudly the armor of the Champion, the bright glare on her face and the grief weighing down her shoulders.

_I'm the only one who can do this_ , she had said determinedly, shouldering the Godkiller, the legendary sword forged and blessed by the gods.  _I will slay Ares, and put an end to the war._

The battle between the god of War and the Amazonian Champion had been as beautiful as it had been deadly: two warriors of superior strength fighting for victory, one for the sake of destroying, and the other for the sake of protecting. The lands of Themyscria would suffer for decades from their blows…and what for in the end?

She still saw Diana's blade slicing Ares' neck, still remembered the howls of pain from his right hand, the sorceress Circe. And she still pictured vividly the purple light surrounding their princess, her wide eyes, her mouth opened in a silent shout. Both Champion and Circe had vanished in a flash of light and then…nothing. Absolutely nothing was left of her. Not even a hair. Artemis was no fool; if Circe had wanted Diana dead, she would be dead. The witch had her vanished…which meant she had been transported to another place. Outside of Themyscria. For a brief moment, Artemis was glad Hippolyta had passed away early in battle; the loss of her daughter would have finished her off.

"She died," Donna repeated mechanically, returning her focus on the silent tombs. "And there is nothing we can do to help."

Artemis didn't correct the younger woman in her assumption. Not many had been present to witness Diana's disappearance, but those were there knew this was but another of Circe's tricks to make them hope, make them yearn for Diana's return. A perfect revenge against the Amazon, for killing Ares. She would not allow Donna to fall into that trap.

"You can honor her memory by remembering her victories," Artemis concluded grimly. Donna was on her feet in seconds, glaring in full rage.

"How can you speak so coldly?" She growled angrily. "Does her death mean so little to you? She was my sister, my mentor! She saved my life!"

"Don't you dare speak of what you don't know!" Artemis snapped in return. "She was my sister far before you were born!"

And so much more, she thought privately. But she wouldn't let the younger woman know that.

"You should apologize, Donna," a third, softer voice came to interrupt their argument. "Artemis has known Diana from the day she came to life; all of us did. She too grieves, even if she shows it differently."

Donna and Artemis turned around. Alexa had joined them, limping slightly. Her balance was off as her left eye was bandaged from a stray blade given by the traitorous Persephone. Her beautiful red hair had to be shortened in order to tend what was left of her right ear. Artemis had always seen Alexa bearing a soft smile, even as they argued and bickered. Today, the smile was gone and the usual glint in her eyes seemed dimmer. Donna swallowed heavily. Artemis looked away; this display of distress yet reminded her that for all the Amazonian traditions her most recent sister had adopted, shielding her feelings was not one of them.

"The sun is getting low," Alexa went on. "The others are preparing a feast to celebrate our victory and mourn our dead. Most of our supplies have been destroyed by the fires but then," she paused, attempting to master her emotions. "We aren't as many anymore."

A subtle reminder that Diana had not been the only one to pay the price of peace with her life, just as Io and Pallas and so many others buried at their feet. Now, all they could do was drink to their memory and honor their sacrifice the Amazonian way. The three women spared a last prayer for their fallen sisters and hauled the Minotaur's corpse away before heading back in silence.

The feast in itself was a quiet one. The battle against Ares had lasted no more than a few days, but those had been bloody and tiring. None were too inclined to toast loudly. More importantly, the worries of the aftermath began to rise. They had no more Queen. They had no more Princess. No tangible leader to take over and the gods…the gods were silent. Offerings had been made and prayers sent. A sentinel had been left by the temple of the gods –or what was left of it anyway –in case an answer was heard. But after decapitating Ares, they didn't expect to earn Zeus' sympathy in their distress.

Artemis nursed her drink and stared at her sisters. They had been hundreds of Amazons before, now only remained little over a hundred and fifty. One third of those warriors would be incapacitated for the remaining of their lives. Never in Amazonian memory had her people found themselves in such precarious situation. She clenched her jaw, wondering how long it would take to rebuild. How long would they last with no leader. How long until internal disputes would destroy what remained of their people. She was a warrior, not a commander, just like many others. They needed someone they could unite under, someone they trusted. Most leading figures had been killed already. Diana had been caught by Circe who would not release her easily. They needed to organize….they needed hope. Something to cling onto.

A small whimper came from her left. Donna had curled by her side and succumbed to exhaustion like many others. Artemis couldn't blame her; they had been fighting a war and then burning and burying bodies. She would probably fall asleep herself if she decided to lie down. But the younger woman was caught in the depths of a nightmare; her body shivering even though the air was warm and her face twisted in distress. Artemis decided not to allow demons further plague her dreams and reached out to wake her.

She had barely brushed her shoulder that Donna jumped, eyes wide, gasping for air. Artemis pulled back her hand and watched her with a raised eyebrow.

"That bad?" she inquired dryly, though not unkindly. Donna had never been pulled into such deadly battle, the nightmares were expected. The sudden emergence of hope in her eyes and the tentative smile growing on her face was definitively not.

"Diana is alive," she whispered, gaining the immediate attention of nearby Amazons. "I saw her. She's alive."

Artemis quickly quelled the urge to hope her words brought her.

"You were dreaming Donna," she told her, even though it broke her heart. The young woman shook her head.

"No, you don't understand. When Diana saved me, she gave me a piece of her soul. We shared dreams before. We can reach for each other, if our minds are willing." Pause. She inhaled deeply. "We connected. It was brief, but long enough for me to see through her eyes." Her smile widened. "She's out there Artemis, and I know where to start looking."

The women around her had turned deadly quiet.

"Where is she?"

Donna's smile dimmed lightly. Artemis braced herself for the worse.

"She's in-"

**The Amazon and the Knight**

Of all the things to wake up to, Bruce had never expected it to be a crash in his garden at four in the morning. But there it came, soon after his return from an uneventful patrol. He had just finished his shower and put on his PJ's when the earth trembled under the shock of a something hitting the ground very close by. Cursing his luck, he put on a robe and, flashlight and batrangs in hand, ran outside. Dick –who had returned for the weekend –followed, hot on his heels, prepared for an impending attack.

Dust had risen around the crash area and bits of dirt splattered all over the garden. Otherwise, everything was silent. Bruce approached cautiously the center of the impact. The object had hit the ground with such force it had dug a small crater, one that was possibly going to be hard to explain to the gardeners. Waving at Dick to stand at respectable distance, he peeked over the border and waited for the sights to clear.

He halfway expected a small rock, like a meteorite, or even some debris from outer-space. Perhaps a bomb or some weapon even. A human shape curled upon itself was only tenth on his list.

_God help us if this is a Kryptonian_ , he thought sarcastically. He'd shove this one to Clark in a heartbeat. Sensing no immediate danger, he jumped into the hole and landed next to the body. Human at first sight, female too. Long dark hair, red bustier and blue –were those shorts? underwear? –and metallic boots. Iron bracelets on her forearms. Iron gladiator-like helmet covering her face. He reached out and brushed her skin. Paused. He hadn't noticed it first because of the darkness, but the faint light of his torch revealed something that made him uneasy: the woman's skin was covered in burns and angry lashes. Bleeding lashes.

"Prepare the infirmary and call Leslie," Bruce ordered. "She's badly injured."

He wedged the lamp between his teeth, crouched to slip an arm under her knees and the other behind her shoulder. She weighed more than he expected, which was a good sign; if she had been healthy before crashing on his lawn, then she'd have a better chance at survival. He climbed out of the hole and carried her inside under Dick's inquisitive gaze. Alfred, good man, had already prepared the hospital bed. Bruce laid her and took a second look in the more decent light. Whatever battle she had gone through must have been rough; the bleeding gashes and burns were worse than he thought. Hopefully, her head hadn't sustained any major damage…

He reached out for the helmet, felt for an opening. He found a series of small lashes on the side and unfastened each of them. Once opened, he carefully pulled it off. Dick gasped. He nearly did the same. The mask had uncovered the most beautiful face he had ever seen: soft features, long black lashes, pouty red lips and more importantly, unmarked skin. The protection had done its job in shielding her face. Now, he had to work on healing the rest.

"Dick, bring me the hot water and some clothes. Alfred, bring me the salve."

They were in for a long sleepless night.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Knight and the Amazon**

**2**

The unknown woman had been cleaned, her injuries tended. Alfred had set up a bed in the guest rooms and found her a clean button-up shirt and briefs belonging to Bruce to change her into. She was now lying in said bed, oblivious to the world. The whole time they had been treating her, she hadn't even stirred. For a moment, they had almost believed her dead, but her pulse was strong, though irregular, and monitors showed REM activity. She was unconscious but not too far gone, and Leslie was optimistic at her recovery.

It did help that she seemed to have some self-healing power. By the time the doctor had arrived, most of her minor burns had closed, leaving Leslie just enough time to ensure their proper healing and give a few indications on how they should keep an eye on her.

What Bruce wanted now was to figure who the hell she was, and where did she come from. She wasn't a Green Lantern, definitively didn't fit the Kryptonian criteria in the wardrobe department. Unless she was a shapeshifter like J'onn, he would tend to consider her human –or metahuman –but couldn't take his supposition as an absolute certainty.

Out of options, he switched on his phone and checked the news. Paused at the headline. A strange phenomenon had occurred over Europe; a bright light, like a huge and silent explosion, had been spotted at large of the coast. Witnesses reported the sky had brightened for a full five minutes, as if suddenly embraced by flames, before returning to normal only minutes after. Plenty of pictures from amateurs or specialists had surged on the web of what appeared to be a huge firestorm surging from the ocean. Bruce immediately reached for his com.

"Batman to Watchtower."

" _Watchtower to Batman, Superman speaking."_

It was Clark's shift. Perfect. He was used to Bruce's odd requests and wouldn't question him too much.

"What happened over Europe these past hours? I just saw the news." he demanded, not bothering with niceties.

" _You're up late –or early,_ " his friend quipped, but turned serious fast enough.  _"We have no idea. The sensors recorded a high spike of energy but we couldn't see anything. The sky flamed up in seconds –which was rather impressive by the way –but it didn't spread far. Heat sensors went wild but honestly, it's like a huge volcano erupted under an invisible dome and spit out fire."_

Not quite a volcano, Bruce thought, glancing at the still sleeping woman. It could explain the burns, but not the lashes and bruises. She had been fighting for her life, if the gash on her collarbone –clearly weapon induced –meant anything.

It took him a few seconds to realize Clark was still talking.

" _-sent GL and Shayera to investigate. They should be back shortly. I'll forward their reports to you right away."_

"Do that," Bruce replied briskly. The situation didn't require his immediate presence; for the time being, he would wait. "Batman out."

He cut the line before waiting for Clark's reply and resumed his contemplation of the unconscious woman. He should have told Clark about her; should have transported her to the Watchtower to protect his identity. But something inexplicable held him back. A small voice had whispered in the back of his mind: ' _don't send her away yet_ '. And he trusted his instincts.

She truly was eerily beautiful, like a creature born out of perfection. Even under the covers, the lines of her hourglass body stood out and the stillness of her face reminded him slightly of Sleeping Beauty. He indulged a split second of contemplation at kissing her during her sleep. Would she wake up? Would she enjoy it? hate it? in that case, would he even survive the encounter? She was built like a warrior with hard muscles and tall bone structure and bore the wounds of a warrior. He had a feeling she would punch him through the wall, should she found his actions unwarranted.

Bruce shifted his attention on a safer territory; her armor. Upon arrival, they had to remove her clothes to start cleaning her injuries and hadn't paid much thought to them. Leslie had divested her from the rest and set them aside. At first glance, the bustier and breastplate looked perfectly normal. The fabric stood out by remaining intact in spite of the burns on the woman's skin and couldn't be torn by any tool he tried.

The more interesting part of her paraphernalia was, in his opinion, the bracelets. Perfectly intact too, though marks of time could be noted in some places, and impossible to remove. Leslie had tried. Alfred had tried. Dick had tried.  _He_  had tried, to no avail. They wouldn't be unleashed or slipped out and Bruce couldn't exactly identify the metal they had been made in. He would have thought of silver mixed with another material, but couldn't pinpoint what. The diadem and breastplate had gone through the same examination; gold, with some added unknown material. They were all forged by hand, that much he knew for sure, no industrial machine could infuse the… _life_  he felt within when he touched them.

So many questions ran through his mind with so little answers…Patience was his best virtue, but sometimes, he wished things went  _faster_.

"She hasn't awakened yet?"

Bruce looked up as Dick peeked into the room.

"Leslie diagnosed she should open her eyes within the next forty-eight hours," he replied. The sun was rising in the afar. He glanced at his watch. Seven AM. "I have a meeting at Wayne Enterprises at nine that I cannot delegate," he announced. "Can you delay your return a few days just in case?"

The younger man shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Sure, I'll manage. Go work to finance all your expensive toys; I'll keep an eye on Princess Aurora here." Apparently, he wasn't the only one drawing a parallel with Sleeping Beauty. "You'll be the second to know when she opens her eyes."

Only then Bruce rose from his seat and stepped closer to the unconscious form. The former injury on her collarbone was still visible but in good path of recovery and the worse burn marks almost faded. The beautiful face remained still as stone.

_Who are you_? he asked her silently.  _What have you gone through?_

His fingers itched to trace the contour of her face but in the presence of his ward, he held back.

"The second she stirs, call me," he ordered again before leaving the room without much more of a farewell. He had a busy day ahead of him.

**The Knight and the Amazon**

She woke up with a quiet gasp, her body burning and senses in a mess. The first thing she noted was the silky shoots surrounded her. Then, the sunlight through closed eyelids. The breathing of a human being somewhere on her left made her uneasy. Her hand slowly crept around the mattress quietly, seeking for…for what exactly? She opened her eyes. The walls of the room were painted in soft tunes of green. The ceiling was white. Her throat felt incredibly dry. When she raised her hand to her neck, she felt the soft fabric of a bandage covering it.

"I wouldn't advise you to touch it. Your face was spared but you were heavily injured there. Given your healing rate though, you should be able to speak again in the next few days."

She jumped, startled, and turned her head: a stranger dressed in a white shirt and black pants was sitting on a chair nearby, holding a book. Dark-haired, stone face, large in a stocky way. A man, her brain supplied.

She instinctively bristled and tried to sit.

"Don't move," he ordered, raising from his seat and stepping towards her. She flinched at his approach but felt too weak to manage a proper escape. The man halted his progression, his hands raised slightly to indicate he meant no harm.

"If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it by now," he announced. His voice didn't sound threatening, but not quite soft either. "You heal fast, but you've been unconscious for thirty hours; you need to take it easy."

She didn't lower her guard. He was a man. He couldn't be trusted. Her body hurt everywhere, but she would force it to comply to her commands if needed. The man sighed heavily and ran a hand in his short hair.

"Do you understand me at least?" She waited a few seconds before nodding once. That seemed to relieve him. "Good. Are you hungry?" She considered his question. Nodded again. Her stomach wasn't particularly screaming for food, but it wouldn't hurt to have it filled. And it was as he said; he had plenty of opportunity to harm her before. "I'll be back shortly with…something. Please don't try to run away."

She watched him slowly step away, never quite turning his back to her even as he closed the door behind. An odd thought crossed her mind: could it be he was as wary of her that she was of him? Had he never seen a woman before? She brushed the thought away with a smirk; he  _was_  a man, of course he had seen women before. If only his mother. Or his wife. Did he have a wife? Or wives? One or many daughters? Her mother-

She suddenly stiffened as an odd thought fell upon her. Who was  _her_  mother? She had a mother, right? The word itself evoked warmth and love, the shadow of a smile on a hidden face, a mouth wording sentences she couldn't hear...

Her heartbeat accelerated. Something was wrong. Something was  _dead_  wrong. She couldn't remember her own mother and-

What was her name?

Her head felt light and dizzy. She shut her eyes close and rubbed her temple.

_Stay calm_ , she ordered herself.  _Panicking will lead you nowhere._

But the further she explored her memories and came up with nothing, the closer she came to snapping. Her mind felt like a blank state with no people, no places, nothing to fill it with. How could she even understand the man's language? Why did she distrust him for just being a man? Where did those instincts come from?

She wanted to scream, but her sore throat barely allowed her to groan. She felt tears of frustration build behind her eyes and wiped them away before they could fall. She was so tired and angry and confused and  _where was she?_

Her legs shook as she moved them over the mattress. The coolness of the wooden floor made her shiver, but she managed to stand and slowly toddle towards the window. She barely pushed the curtain aside and peeked through. A huge patch of green greeted her and she had to rub her eyes to shoo away the sudden brightness. The sun was high up –she assumed around eleven in the morning- the grass of the lawn was flat and well-kept, huge animal-shaped bushes seemed to animate the path cutting through all and thick trees bordered the far end-

Her legs suddenly failed her and she stumbled backward with a yelp. She never hit the solid ground. Instead, she found herself held flush against a larger, warmer body and her face buried flat against a strong chest.

"What did I tell about taking it easy!"

She stiffened, annoyed with herself: she had overestimated the strength of her legs, the  _man_  had to save from a bad fall, and…his hold on her was surprisingly gentle for someone so big and he…smelt good. The last thought startled her so much she didn't protest when he lifted her effortlessly and deposited her on the vacated bed. He was strong too, she added to her mental list. When he pulled back, blue eyes met blue eyes and for a brief second, her heartbeat accelerated again. This time, it had nothing to do with anger, but the beautiful cerulean irises bordered with a hint of golden focused on her. The line of his mouth tight and leaning downwards, which brought her attention to the symmetry of his face, the angular chin, slightly crocked nose –as if it had been broken a few times before. On second thought, he looked quite handsome, for a man.

"Don't do that again," he ordered, his voice a low growl in the back of his throat. She thought his pupils had dilated slightly but he turned away before she could confirm it. Instead, he picked up a tray which carried a bowl of soup and some bread. "Start slowly. If you're still hungry I'll bring you more. But you need to rest right now. Understood?"

His voice held a dry, bossy hint she resented, but she merely accepted the food and started eating wordlessly. A few bites later, he was still standing there, watching her. She sent him a glare: was he going to stand by her side all day? He rolled his eyes, annoyed.

"I'll be back to take the dish. Just leave it on the side. And  _rest_."

He left the room without another word. She waited until the door was closed to resume eating. Thoughts were swirling in her mind; she still felt confused and angry, but her body still felt sore and her head hurt. Perhaps a little rest would do her some good after all. The man was right, she admitted reluctantly; she was vulnerable right now and until she could move on her own, she would be nothing more but a burden. Perhaps that was why he insisted she healed fast; she was an obligation. He had tended to her injuries because he must have pitied her and then he'd kick her out once she was strong enough. For some reason, she didn't feel particularly satisfied by that conclusion.

She suddenly realized she didn't even know his name.

_I'll ask him when he returns_ , she thought absentmindedly. Yes, when he'd return. After she'd  _rest_.

**The Knight and the Amazon**

Bruce nearly slammed the door on his way out. What was that stubborn woman thinking, leaving her bed while still recovering? And nearly hurting herself all over again. Thank god he was in the room when it happened. And she hadn't even heard him come in! Was she that careless?

"So, how is Aurora?"

Dick was spread on the couch, nursing a cut he had earned the past night from patrolling and had yet the time to tend to. Bruce sighed in frustration.

"Eating," he replied dryly. He pulled out his phone and switched the surveillance camera hidden in her room. The live feed showed her gnawing on her bread now, the bowl of soup clean. She looked exhausted and deep in thoughts. "She's still weak."

"How is she healing?"

"The burns on her arms are nearly all gone. No more superficial cuts left." The large gash on her collarbone was nothing more but a fading scar now. Her healing process was truly extraordinary and intriguing. "She needs rest most than anything," he concluded.

"What will you do with her now?" Dick inquired. "I mean, you don't usually keep a stranger under your roof to begin with. I thought you'd send her straight to the Watchtower."

"And tell them what?" Bruce snapped. "That I found a woman in Bruce Wayne's lawn? I might as well show with no cowl on."

"And it's better to confine her in the manor?"

"I can keep a closer eye on her here. It'll be easier to figure out if she's a threat or not."

Dick hummed, unconvinced. Bruce ignored him and glanced back at his phone. The woman had set the trail aside and was currently lying on her side, her right hand caressing the bracelet on her left forearm. Her eyes were closed, her lips tightly pressed together. He cut the feed and put his phone back in his pocket with a sigh. Now was not the time to play the voyeur; she was clearly upset, she could use some privacy. He could always interrogate her later.

Only then he realized Dick was staring at him with a slight smirk on his face.

"What?"

"She really is good-looking," his ward pointed out uselessly.

_No kidding_.

"So what?"

"It's perfectly understandable that you'd like to keep her close by for…you know, other reasons," Dick added with a wink.

"One, she is not an animal," Bruce rattled, annoyed. "Two, even if she is beautiful,"  _One of the most gorgeous women I've ever met._  "It's not ethical to attempt something when she is clearly emotionally distressed. Three, she might be a-"

"I was kidding!" Dick claimed and threw his hands in the air. "Just kidding. You need to learn to take joke sometimes." Bruce remained unmoved. "Right. I'll be in my room. Sleeping. 'Cause I'm only human and I need sleep too." As if to emphasize his point, Dick yawned deeply. "Have fun watching Aurora."

Bruce's scowled deepened.

"That's not her name, stop calling her that."

"How do you know?" Dick teased back and waved on his way out. "See you later, charmer."

**The Knight and the Amazon**

_She was standing on an island, on a beautiful beach facing the sea. Night had fallen and the starry sky seemed to surround her. She closed her eyes, sensed the salty air, the felt her feet deep in the sand, the humidity of vegetation in her back._

_And suddenly, she was no longer alone._

'…rn aro…'

_A familiar voice, somehow. She opened her eyes on the endless sea._

'…na! T...roun…'

_She closed her eyes again, inhaled and exhaled. So peaceful…_

'…eas…'

_The wind started to rise and whistle in her ears. It became stronger by the second, almost violent. She winced as a strand of hair came to whip her face._

'..ana! Pl…'

_The voice was becoming desperate. She turned around and-_

_A sea of endless bodies. Fires burning the ground. Blood tainting everything. She was wearing a red and blue armor and her loyal bracelets. A sword appeared in her right hand, a shield in her left, a crown on her forehead. A cruel laugh rose in the afar, rising shivers down her spine. She wanted to flee, but her feet wouldn't move._

'…no D…'

_The voice came from her right side. A human shade was running in her direction, calling for her._

'…ind y…'

_She watched, frozen, as the unidentifiable shadow came closer. A feeling of dread overwhelmed her as a hand reached out for her._

'…find you,'  _the voice –female, young,_ familiar _–shouted. The sounds were too loud. She covered her ears and closed her eyes to escape it –escape everything._  'We'll-'

_And everything went black._


	3. Chapter 3

**The Knight and the Amazon**

**3.**

She gasped awake, eyes wide, breath uneven. Her body felt sticky with sweat and the sheets had tangled in her legs. She thought she might have screamed, her throat felt particularly drier than earlier.

"Are you alright?"

Though the man wasn't in the room, he still stood behind a half-opened door. Staring again. The rise of annoyance returned and she focused everything on that. How long had he been watching her sleep? Without her invitation, he entered and closed the door behind. For the first time that day –had it been a day? How long had she been sleeping anyway? The bowl and the trail had been taken and the light seemed to have dimmed, so mid to late afternoon? –she realized how tall and large he was. Perhaps her hazy mind was playing tricks on her, but he did feel like a looming monster when he stepped closer.

_Stop thinking of him like the enemy_ , she scolded her brain.  _He hadn't done anything to earn your animosity yet._

"Here, I brought you this." He handed her a notepad and a pen. She stared at the two elements at loss at what to do. This was not what she had expected from him. "If we need to communicate, we better use this to spare your voice." Pause. "You do know how to write?"

That was actually…not a bad idea. She couldn't recall encountering such material before –the too smooth-looking pages, the odd-looking pencil- but she blamed her faulty memory. She hesitantly took the two objects and wrote down, with a light tremor in her hand:

' _Yes'_

The man seemed amused by her cautiousness towards him, which infuriated her even more. She couldn't wait to regain full control of her legs and get out of his house.

"A friend will come to check on your injuries a little later." Her puzzlement must have shown, as he added: "You were in a very bad shape, but you healed incredibly fast." He sat on the mattress, close to her. She tensed at his proximity but forced herself to stand still. He would not hurt her, she chanted inwardly, if he had wanted to, he would have done it long before. "You will be fine," he added on a softer tone but made no move to get closer. "Wherever you came from, you're safe here."

Though his eyes were still distant, he sounded genuine. She was briefly tempted to demand if they were acquainted but figured he would have used her name had it been the case. Speaking of which…

' _What is your name?'_

The man barely lifted the corner of his mouth. She assumed that was the closest thing to a smile she'd get from him.

"Bruce. What's yours?"

Her shoulders sagged and she looked away. Her fingers tightened around the pen as she wrote her answer:

' _I don't know.'_

He looked thoughtful for a second.

"It's not…Aurora, right?" She raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "No, never mind." Pause. "It isn't?"

She shook her head. While she couldn't recall her name, she was rather certain Aurora wasn't it.

' _Why_?  _Is she an acquaintance of yours?'_

"No, it's nothing. My ward is having odd ideas." His ward? "My son, Richard." He added as he must have sensed her confusion. "You will meet him later, he lives here. My butler too. They're good people." He paused, and for a brief moment there was nothing but silence between them. Not quite uncomfortable, but not exactly constructive. A lot of questions were running through her mind but she couldn't ask them and writing them down would take too long. He broke the silence once again.

"Do you…do you remember how you came here? Where you got your injuries?"

He kept mentioning injuries, but she had none. All she knew was the soreness of her body earlier, the weakness in her legs and the dream…

Gods, that dream…

"Miss?"

The man –Bruce –hadn't moved, but his scrutiny made her shiver. She wrapped her arms around herself in a self-hug, suddenly feeling cold and lonely. She hated showing vulnerability in front of a complete stranger, but her patience was wearing thin. She was scared, she was weak, she needed…

"What are your bracelets for?"

…a distraction. She desperately needed a distraction.

"Miss, you're with me?"

What was his former question? The bracelets, right. She let her fingers trail down their smooth and strong form. They were there, as if they had always been there, a comfort, a reassuring weight. Plain but soft to touch, strong and fitting her forearms perfectly.

' _I don't know where they are from.'_

And she had no intention of removing them.

"Are you hungry? Do you need to use the bathroom? I can carry you there; you should be strong enough to handle yourself once inside." She contemplated his sudden shift of questioning. Was he asking out of concern or had he decided probing for answers she couldn't give was a waste of time? She couldn't sense any will to deceive, but with a man, one never knew.

_Stop thinking like that_ , she chided herself irritated again. Only time would tell whether his intentions were noble or not. In the meantime, she might as well take advantage of his offered hospitality. After all, she stunk and desperately needed a wash.

' _Bathroom please.'_

**The Knight and the Amazon**

Trust had to start somewhere, and Bruce knew he'd have to be patient. The woman appeared to be clueless as to her origins and obviously didn't know how to deal with him.

_That made two of them,_  he thought ironically as he waited outside the bathroom. He had carried her inside earlier, managing to ignore the softness of her curves pressed against him. He had set her on a plastic stool and quickly demonstrated how to use the shower. Her eyes had widened comically and her jaw had dropped, as if she had been facing an artifact from another world.

_Had she never seen a shower?_  That would reduce the number of regions where she had come from, if she were from earth. He thought back to the depth of the crater, figured that while she must have fallen from high up, a drop from outer space would have caused a lot more damage. Then there was this story of the column of flames in Europe. He would bet both the woman's crashing and its apparition were related somehow. A quick check of his watch informed him the clock was ticking close to six; John and Shayera must have returned to the Watchtower by now. If Clark had held onto his word, the reports would soon come in.

A soft knock brought him back to reality.

"I'm here," he announced and stepped back in time as the door opened.

For a brief second, his brain stopped functioning. The woman hadn't dried her hair, hadn't put on her clothes, but had wrapped herself in the big fluffy towel and her skin was still glistering with humidity. Her face was flush with warmth from the shower, her expression hesitant. He stared at the vision, speechless, and it took him longer than he'd ever admit to recover.

"Ye-" he started but his voice was far too coarse. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Yes?"

The damn woman smirked, aware of her effect on him. She handed him a piece of paper:  _'Clothes soaked. Can I have others?'_

He definitively did not imagine her wearing wet clothes and how they would cling to her body.

"Sure. Wait here, I'll be back."

He did not storm out of the room. He did not forget to close the door on his way out. And he definitively did not nearly knock into Dick and Alfred on his way.

"Someone's in a hurry," his ward noted and raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Everything's fine?"

Dick had been coming and going to get some news all day long. He had asked Alfred to make up something sweet in case she was hungry again –sugar to keep the energy up. In typical Alfred fashion, the butler had backed cookies of his secret recipe, nothing less than perfect, for their guest.

"Yes," he grunted, annoyed. Now if Dick could get out of the way so he could fulfill his mission…

"So why do you look like you –oh  _hi_  there!"

Bruce turned around. The woman had ignored his order to stand still and had followed him in the corridor. In plain view of Dick and Alfred. Still in her towel and dripping on the carpet. She offered Dick a cautious smile; Bruce tried not to feel jealous –he had been welcomed with nothing but glares. The young man grinned, unashamed to check her out.

"It's good to see you awake, Miss. You need new clothes?" A nod. "You're about my size; I'll fetch some. Care to wait for a sec?" Another nod.

Alfred had not blinked once, but Bruce knew he was far from indifferent. He had brought many models and drop-dead gorgeous women, his butler had seen quite a few in many state of dress –or in this case, undress. And yet, none measured up to Diana's natural beauty.

"Would you please return to the room?" Bruce muttered, wanting nothing more but to facepalm in embarrassment. The woman ignored him again – _shocker_  –and glanced with interest at what Alfred held in his hands. She made the universal gesture for ' _may I'_  and, upon authorization, picked a freshly backed cookie. Her face split into a delighted smile after the first bite. The butler stood a little straighter. If Bruce dared, he'd say the old man was preening.

"I'm glad you appreciate this, Miss."

"Here comes the shipment!" Dick announced enthusiastically. He had returned with several shirts-including a white one, and two sweatpants. "I found leggings that use to belong to Barbs."

"You keep Barbara's clothes in your closet?" Bruce inquired suspiciously.

"Must have been a laundry mix-up," he shrugged unapologetically before handing the clothes to her. "I hope they fit."

The woman took them with a small smile and stole another cookie before finally returning to her room. She wasn't quite stable, her legs clumsily putting a foot ahead of the other, but her pride wouldn't let her lean against the wall. Bruce bit back a sigh and made to follow before he remembered something:

"Leslie will be stopping by in an hour or so. Lead her here when she arrives."

"Still not calling in the League?"

A blatant glare was Dick's answer. Bruce took a few extra cookies for the woman -and one for him, but Alfred didn't need to know that- and hurried to join her.

**The Knight and the Amazon.**

"Open your mouth for me please."

She eyed the older woman with slight distrust before complying. Leslie thanked her and with a light stick, explored the cavity of her mouth.

"No visible inflammation. Do you still have trouble speaking?" She nodded. "Does it hurt if I press here?" she brought her fingers over her throat and touched a bandaged zone. No pain whatsoever. She shook her head. "Good. You're not swelled, no fever…" Her eyes lingered on her bare arms. "No more burns. It is impressive Miss."

She had no idea why her apparent fast healing was impressive, but she nodded thanks anyway. Leslie put back the off series of metallic artifacts she had used to examine her back in her bag.

"I'll have a word with Bruce about strenuous activity, but as far as I can say, you should be completely recovered by tomorrow night." The older woman put a hand over her shoulder. "Don't worry sweetheart, the boys will take care of you. It may not seem like it, but Bruce has a golden heart. He'll help you figure out where you come from."

She lowered her head enough for her hair to stumble over her shoulders. Leslie had kind eyes, spoke softly and asked permission to touch before performing her healing. She was a 'doctor', one Bruce had called for when she had been found covered with injuries. Someone he trusted. It sounded odd, to have a man in his thirties trust a woman. To see a man trust a woman at all, to consider her an equal and not a subject, was  _odd_. She wondered if he'd come to trust her too, if she stayed long enough, and how it would feel to trust him in return.

_Trust a man? Pah!_

' _Thank you'_ , she wrote on her notebook. It was now covered with black scribbling and crossed words as conversations had gone. The clothes leant by Bruce's ward –Dick, a very odd nickname for a man –did fit her. The shoulders were slightly broader than hers and the bottoms would easily slip down her waist if not for the strings inside. Leslie left soon after. She stood shakily on her legs and toddled towards the window. Outside, the gardens were a vibrant green in spite of the lowering sunlight. Everything was so peaceful, so quiet…she narrowed her eyes as she spotted a big dump of earth arranged in a sort of circle. She hadn't noticed it earlier but now it stood like a sore thumb out of the ground.

"Damn Miss, those clothes suit you better than me."

She turned around, slightly surprised when she saw both Bruce and Dick enter the room. While she still felt uneasy with the older man, the younger one seemed somehow more…approachable. His eyes didn't hold as much distance as his elder; his smile was quick but sincere. She might end up liking him, even though he was still a man.

"Do you need to rest?" Bruce asked in his customary detached tone. She shook her head. She was tired of lying in bed. Perhaps she could ask for a walk in the gardens later…

"It's pretty out there eh?"

Dick's comment reminded her of the weird dump. Curiosity took over wariness and she picked up her notebook.

' _What happened?_ ' she scribed and pointed at the spot. The two men peeked through the window in turn.

"You happened." Bruce informed her. At her puzzled stare, he explained: "We found you down there. You crashed in my lawn, I still have no idea why or how."

Well, neither did she.

' _Is it a regular occurrence? People crashing in your lawn?'_  she inquired.

Dick snorted and turned away to hide his laughs. Bruce cringed.

"Not exactly. The most impressive here is you survival." Once again, she felt confused. "Normal human beings don't survive falling from the sky. Either you are metahuman, or an alien."

The more he spoke, the less she understood. He tried again:

"We are…never mind, you'll figure that one out eventually."

She stared, pensively. Then she wrote down:

' _You are men, I'm a woman. Of course we are different. What is an alien?'_

"Kill me now," he muttered exasperatedly. She tensed, worried. Was her incomprehension a mortal danger to him? "It's an expression!" he added quickly.

Then she realized Dick hadn't stopped snickering at his elder. Making fun of his flustered state. She frowned, intrigued by their behavior. She didn't truly believe destroying one's garden was a normal occurrence, but given the circumstances of her arrival…she didn't understand why Bruce would be the subject of mockeries. Or perhaps was Dick mocking his uneasiness, or the absurd nature of her questions? She supposed it might be funny from his point of view.

"An alien is someone that doesn't live on earth, but comes crashing from another planet," Bruce eventually said. He still sounded annoyed, but not overly so. "Anything else?"

She shook her head,

"You're from earth?" Dick asked in turn.

' _I might be_ ' she replied, but she wasn't very sure. Earth wasn't the right word. Something about men…Men's World? Patriarch's World? Yes, that one. Patriarch's World. She was in Patriarch's World. The thought gave her an unexpected shiver, like she had just transgressed a sacred rule. Like…she wasn't supposed to be here.

"Miss?"

Both men were contemplating her in various degrees of worry and suspicion. She offered them a smile and looked back outside. All she had right now were instincts and impressions; she didn't want to say anything until she was certain…Her legs felt weak again. As if sensing the shift of strength, Bruce offered her his elbow to lean against. After a quick inner debate, she accepted his help and slowly moved to sit on the bed. Dick gave her a look of sympathy but didn't try to help. She appreciated that too.

"While we're here, we brought you this."

Dick set a bag on the covers next to her. Curiosity demanded she peeked inside, so she did. A bunch of fabrics –clothes, she realizes –were neatly folded at the bottom.

"You were wearing this when we found you." The two men exchanged another quick glance. "We hope it'll trigger a memory."

She took the clothes and laid them on the side. A red corset. Blue panties. Red boots. A golden breastplate. A golden crown with a red star. What were  _those_? Did she really wear them? She shook her head in defeat.

"It's alright, it'll come back eventually," Dick said reassuringly. "Are you hungry?"

She wondered if asking for more of those cookies would be rude.

"Alfred made plenty of them," Bruce inputted with a smirk. "He knows they never last long, especially with Dick around."

Dick pulled his tongue. Her cheeks turned crimson at how Bruce had easily read her thoughts.

"I know what Leslie said about exhausting yourself," he went on, ignoring her embarrassment. "But would you like to go to the gardens?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who came out of her lethargy with this one? No promises I'll update soon, but next chapter is halfway written, so with some hope, it'll be up by next week :)  
> Unbeta-ed work so all mistakes are mine. Please enjoy!

 

* * *

 

**The Knight and the Amazon**

**4**

The amphitheater seemed cramped and crowded with Amazons. Everyone was chatting loudly, wondering what was about to come. The density of the crowd and the animation almost gave the illusion of normality, if Artemis hadn't known this was all that remained of her sisters. The injured were lined in the front rows, some of them shouldn't even have been sitting. But pride and stubbornness ran deep in their blood and for nothing they would have missed the announcement Donna was about to make.

Two days after their youngest sister's outburst, the rumors of Diana still being alive had spread like wildfire. Many came to approach Donna, demanding details. Some were hopeful, some were angry for that hope, some mocked her for dreaming up their princess' fate. But no-one could deny their deepest wish that it could be true.

Hence why Artemis had convinced her to call upon this assembly before things spiraled out of control. Already underdog leaders were starting to gather supporters. Mala, one of her most power-craving sisters, thought herself a decent replacement as their third best warrior on the island –after Artemis of course. Philippus too tended to draw loyalists of the deceased queen as her former general. The most surprising though was Alexa, who was starting to show real prowess in the political field.

Was it all those hours of reading that gave her such a silver tongue? The recent battle that had cost so many injuries, including her own eye? The betrayal of Persephone, who had been seduced by the words of a god? Whatever it was, she still somewhat managed to charm the sisters who weren't keen on following either an old leader or Mala's impulsive temper. Most tempting of all, she claimed she had no intention of leading anyone in the long haul, merely reorganize the island and hold fort until Diana returned. Artemis could see some were suspicious of such a speech, but she believed in her twin. While Alexa showed unexpected skills for leadership, she loved studying and reading far much more.

The amphitheater suddenly quieted, and Artemis returned her attention to the stage. Donna stepped uncertainly on the half-destructed platform. Her face was pale, her nervousness evident, but the determination in her eyes held her shoulders straight and stiff. She stood in the middle of the stage, stared at her sisters defiantly, and Artemis felt a pang in her chest; with her dark hair, blue eyes and the firm set of her, she reminded her too much of their lost princess.

"Thank you for coming, sisters," she started her voice loud and clear. "I called for this gathering to discuss rumors that had been spreading amongst us." She took another breath. "And I am here to confirm that our Princess, Diana, is alive."

A wave of murmurs ran through the crowd. Donna didn't let them time to think too hard.

"When Diana saved me," she went on. "She transferred a part of her soul into me." Another wave of murmurs; the story of Donna's arrival on Themyscira had been purposely edited to prevent unwanted and unnecessary jealousy. Artemis knew because Diana had needed to confide to someone at the time, and she had been it. "She and I can communicate through our dreams. Two nights ago, I saw through her subconscious and last night, I almost spoke to her. She is in Man's World…" Donna swallowed hard. "And her memory was erased."

A roar of outrage ran down the crowd. Artemis felt the same astonishment and anger bubbling within her. She hadn't known about that part. Donna raised her hand to demand silence. The Amazons quieted again, eager to hear more.

"I know the face of the man who took her in –she is treated well," she added quickly before questions could fuse. "But she is lost and confused. She dreams of Ares and our sisters lost in battle, but she had no idea what it means. I wish –I want to go out in Man's World and get her back."

The murmurs returned. One voice finally made way, one that didn't surprise the redhead warrior.

"Why should we believe you?" Mala shouted. "You have nothing but your own word to back your claims! The princess died in battle against Ares honorably; why hail upon ghosts to raise mayhem and division amongst us!"

"Diana was taken by Circe," someone shouted. "She could still be alive."

"Do you truly think that witch would keep the one who killed her lover alive? The gods won't interfere for Ares was one of their own."

"And that's exactly why I'll go!" Donna shouted. "As you said, Diana saved us from Ares and was taken by Circe –but what better revenge to leave our princess in Man's World on her own, and with no memory for her to hold onto?" Mala looked ready to protest. "She saved all of us, we  _owe_  her to  _try_! I am not asking for anyone to follow, I just want you to keep hope…and hope is something we sorely need at the present time."

Artemis shut her eyes briefly. It wouldn't be enough to convince them all. She knew that, while some Amazons genuinely believed in Diana, most of them only  _wanted_  to believe their legitimate leader would return. Artemis herself would pray restlessly if it ensured Diana came back. But as she had learned very early on, gods were fickle and they only helped those who helped themselves first.

She heard Amazons argue together, as the shift between believers and non-believers had already began. And suddenly:

"QUIET!"

The whole crowd fell silent and stared at Donna once again. Their youngest sister was red-faced, either out of anger or embarrassment, perhaps both, and so fierce-looking even Artemis felt a shiver run down her spine.

"I am not asking for your permission either," Donna reprised passionately. "I am leaving for Man's World tonight, and I will find Diana with or without your consent. Will anyone come with me?"

Once again, sisters exchanged glances, but none came forward. Most craved for Diana's return, but the fear of man's world was still firmly anchored in their souls. While Mala was bold, not even she would dare step outside Paradise Island if she could help it. Philippus needed to remain if she wanted to gain supporters for her rise to power and Alexa…while the redhead knew her twin had longed for the opportunity to explore the outside world, she could not leave for fear of others –namely Mala or Philippus –managed to convince the rest that Diana was doomed.

Artemis sighed, knowing her own decision had been made before Donna even stepped on the stage. She stood from the benches and shouted to the crowd:

"I will!"

**TKATA –back to Wayne Manor**

They had set her on a chair with wheels and were pushing her outside. At first, she didn't know what to think of this new means of transport, but it was easier on her legs and didn't tire her much. Healer Leslie had insisted she didn't exhaust herself, but she really needed to go outside. The chair, brought by Bruce, had been a decent compromise.

She let Dick push her through the alleys, watched the nature around her with a puzzled stare. The gardens were lovely, but something bothered her. She thought it could do with more trees or higher grass.

"You like it?"

She glanced to Dick and took her notepad.

' _It's too tame._ '

"Perhaps," the young man said. "But it wouldn't do to have Wayne Manor unruly from the outside." When she raised a questioning eyebrow, he explained: "Bruce is…well, maybe you don't know. He's a very rich man. Not just wealthy or well-off, but  _rich_. It's expected of him to have beautiful tidy gardens. He's also very busy, so he pays professional gardeners to care for them and gives them free reign most of the time." Dick shrugged. "They are all very old-school that way."

Bruce had left shortly after they'd come out, quoting business to attend to and phone calls to make, whatever that last part meant. She didn't mind; however generous he might be, he still annoyed her.

The mount of dirt where Bruce had claimed finding her came into view. She gave the young man a light tap on his hand to catch his attention and pointed at it.

"You wanna go there?" she nodded. "Okay. Bruce wanted you to check it out closer in case you remembered something."

They stopped at the bottom of the mini-crater. She decided to give her legs another try and stood on her feet.

"Wow, slowly miss!"

Dick was instantly by her side, holding her arm to stabilize her. With his help, she climbed over the dirt and stopped at the border. The hold was a few meters deep, a sign of how important the impact must have been. She lifted her eyes to watch the sky. This afternoon was clear of clouds and a little warm. She had fallen from up there? Or had she been projected?

She hated memory loss.

Her legs felt weak again, so she nudged Dick to help her down to the chair again.

"Nothing, eh?" she shook her head. Thankfully, he didn't look pitying or patronizing, merely understanding. "It'll come back, just give it some time."

She shrugged again. Her mind was still clouded and blank, it hurt to think too hard. Her gaze wandered back over the large expanse too well-cut grass and the perfectly lined-up bushes. The unnatural sight was starting to unnerve her.

Dick leaned forward to whisper:

"Wanna see the secret fountains? It's a lot bushier there."

She nodded enthusiastically and was immediately wheeled away.

**TKATA**

Bruce turned away as the video feed showed Dick wheeling Diana to a less 'neat' part of the garden. He had carefully watched her reaction as she stared down the hole and seen nothing but genuine blankness and frustration. He sighed and leant back in his chair; now he knew for sure that she wasn't faking.

He returned his attention to the report Clark had sent him on the weird phenomena a while back, which he hadn't been able to take a look at yet. A column of light reaching for the sky. It had erupted somewhere from the Mediterranean sea, but no exact location had been given. The closest witnesses –fishermen caught in a tempest -were more preoccupied by saving their skin than observing an odd light. Further studying of the environment led him to believe this was not the consequence of the local weather. So, manmade? Magic? Bruce sincerely hoped for the former, not the latter. He hated magic with passion because he could virtually do nothing against it.

He calculated the approximate position of the light and sent the League's extra satellite over the spot. Using various filters to scan the sea, he came out with interesting results: one area was surrounded by a strange fog acting like a force-field, preventing his best sophisticated scanners to see through.

It wasn't a large zone, but big enough to hide, say, an island, from prying eyes. The next question was, how could that be possible and more importantly, what could be on said island?

"Did you find anything of interest, sir?"

Bruce leaned back on his seat, his hand covering his mouth as he contemplated the information he had just read.

"The woman landing on my lawn and the column of light are related," he said as a matter-of-fact. "It happened near Greek coast and she was wearing the kind of helmet gladiators used to wear during combat."

"Couldn't it be a coincidence?" the butler inquired, playing the devil's advocate. Bruce shook his head.

"I have a feeling it's not. She has been fighting before crashing down. Her wounds corresponded to blade-made weapons though I cannot explain the burns yet." He sighed and admitted: "If the light is a spell or a consequence of said fight…it means she might have been going against powerful foes."

He glanced at his most loyal ally as a new thought came to his mind.

"She needs to remember, if only for us to know if there is something out there we should be looking out for."

**TKATA**

The night had fallen for a while, but she was wide awake. After a full afternoon spent in the gardens, a light diner –as to not upset her stomach –and an early return to bed, she had fallen asleep fast, only to wake up mere hours later. The clock on her bedside indicated two in the morning.

She set her foot on the floor, felt the strength in her leg and stood up. She was satisfied to note that she did not wobble this time. If anything, she stood relatively stable. Perhaps the meal and her apparent fast healing would indeed help her get back on her feet quick.

She tried walking a little. Her legs kept steady as she walked in circles. She smiled in satisfaction, glanced back at her bed. She was no longer tired at the moment and was yearning for some exercise. Figuring Bruce wouldn't mind if she took a small stroll around the house, she headed to the door. It opened without a sound. She next stepped on the fluffy carpet and followed as it led her downstairs. The manor was already silent in clear day, it seemed incredibly…dead…at night. Or perhaps not that dead, she thought as she heard the walls crack and the soft 'thump' 'thump' of her foot on the floor. The wind was whistling against the window, which meant that it was blowing harder outside. She headed in the living room, where the French windows would give her a better view of the outside. And then…

She had no idea why she ducked behind the couch when she heard an odd mechanical sound, but she did. And then, she stood  _very_  still as she heard footsteps getting closer.

"Fucking wind," someone said, and she recognized Dick's annoyed tune. "You bet I'm going to get some rest."

She watched him from the corner of the couch as he limped past her and headed to the stairs. She briefly wondered if she had closed her door –then figured she was doing nothing wrong. Still, she waited until he had vanished upstairs to step out. On the wall opposite the couch, she saw paintings and an old grandfather's clock. No door nearby. Puzzled, she stepped closer. She was pretty sure the sound had come from there, but she couldn't see an outline or an entrance. Perhaps a secret passage, she thought with a hint of excitement. Was Bruce hiding something in this manor? She decided to give the wall a closer look.

None of the paintings were crocked, meaning they hadn't been moved. The clock –she frowned: the clock was four hours early. What did that mean?

She opened the window glass and turned the needles backward. It was about…what, two fifteen now? She only needed to turn about-

A clicking mechanism echoed again and the grandfather's clock moved. She jumped back as it detached itself from the wall to give way to a hidden door. She grinned widely, happy to have found a true distraction.

_I wonder what Bruce is hiding down there_ , she thought and stepped in without hesitation. She'd just take a peek and head out, she promised herself. No need to intrude on the man's territory more than necessary.


	5. Chapter 5

 

* * *

 

**The Knight and the Amazon**

**5**

The dark corridor led deeper underground. Lights turned on without her needing to touch an interrupter. She took every step down, one by one, keeping as quiet as could be. The light might give her away but she didn't Bruce to find out she was after figuring his secret activity. Thankfully, she had wandered out barefoot so no sound was made as she walked down the staircase. She arrived at the edge of a large room, filled with blinking electronics and screens showing gruesome pictures of dead people in the street. She winced at their apparent violent passing, but wasn't horrified. Something in the back of her mind told her she had seen far worse.

A small door was opened on the far end; she thought she heard people talking there. As she stepped closer, she heard Bruce snap something, and the butler reply sternly:

"Let's take a look at this Master Wayne."

She caught a glimpse of the pair in the afar. Bruce was sitting on a table covered with a green cloth, wearing what resembled a black armor. She watched as the older man helped the younger one take off the top and carefully set the piece aside. She knew Bruce to be a large with broad shoulders and the sight of his muscled arms and back was, somewhat, no novelty to her. What impressed her most was the large collection of scars, old and recent, and the bruises in various stages of healing. She felt shocked at the dangerousness of a few; no doubt that man had been heavily injured before and had teased death more than once.

For what purpose? The dead people on the screen?

Alfred was bent over one nasty-looking one: the bruise was blooming over his shoulder blade and down his side.

"Bane's leftover?" the butler asked sarcastically. He started applying some pomade without waiting for an answer. She couldn't see Bruce's face, but given the way his shoulders stiffened, she believed he must be in pain.

She reported her attention back to the gruesome pictures. People seemed to have been crushed in the middle, their expression frozen into painful agony. Was this Bane spilling the blood? Was Bruce trying to stop him? Was Dick helping him too? Too many questions were starting to form in her head and she decided to leave for now. She hadn't gotten what she came for, but she would keep an eye out. Still silent, she returned to the door. Now it was locked. She frowned, wondering how to open it again. She tried for a handle, but none appeared on the smooth surface. Out of options, she tried to force it.

The lightning bolts hit her hard. Her whole body trembled at the aftershock and as she lost balance, she fell against the wall and hit her head.

**TKATA**

_She stood on a pristine beach, her ankles deep in the water. Waves crashed against her legs, nearly brushing her knees. She wore a white chiton, light in the plumbing sun. She smiled at the warmth, at the sun's gentle embrace. This was her home._

" _-ana!"_

_The same voice was calling her, but she couldn't see who had spoken. Or rather…a shadow was approaching her. A feminine figure, hidden by trees that hadn't been here seconds ago._

" _-iana!"_

_What was she saying? The sun was calling to her, but so was the voice, this shadow. She could sense the desperation, the urge to catch her attention. So she made her way back to the shore and stepped on the sand-_

" _Di-"_

Oh no you don't!

_Purple barriers erupted between her and the shore. She stumbled back and fell in the water, destabilized by the sight._

'Magic' _, she thought, and the color prompted her to think '_ Circe' _._

_The purple barrier circled her and started to enclose her in a cage. She gritted her teeth and jumped to her feet. The top wasn't closed off yet, she could still escape if she jumped…no, not jumped, if she flew…but could she fly? She crouched and jumped, willed herself to go higher and higher…and somewhat it worked. She kept flying up and up and up and reached the end of the tunnel, breaking through-_

" _DIANA!"_

**TKATA**

Both Bruce and Alfred ran upon hearing the fall of something heavy in the corridor leading upstairs. For a brief moment, he thought Dick might have actually gotten a concussion and fainted on his way out. He was stunned to see the woman lying unconscious behind the door. What was she doing here? Had she been spying on them? He checked her feet –no shoes. Both he and his butler had been in the infirmary; they wouldn't have seen the lights or heard her approach. Her appearance coincided with Dick's departure. Did his son let her in? Had she harmed him?

"Check on Dick, Alfred," Bruce ordered. The butler nodded and immediately left. He stared at the unconscious body, wondering what had gotten through her mind to leave her room. He pulled handcuffs from his utility belt -as he hadn't taken it off yet -and tied her wrists together. The woman didn't bulge. He checked her pulse –normal. Her lids were twitching, as if she was dreaming.

_Who are you damnit_ , he wondered angrily. How could she find out about the secret passage? Why hadn't she made her presence known?

The passage opened again and Dick appeared. Behind him, Alfred, looking immensely relieved.

"Master Richard had returned to his room and was about to sleep, sir," the butler announced.

She must have seen Dick walk out of the secret passage, just as the young man had done during his first year living in Wayne Manor, and decided to explore. Why feel the need to hide though? Bruce gritted his teeth, hoping she had a perfectly rational explanation for this mess.

He leaned down to pick her up –grimaced immediately.

"I'll do it," Dick prompted and slid his arms under her knees and in her back. He lifted her effortlessly – _he_  hadn't been repetitively hit against the wall by an enraged Bane –and the three men returned to her bedroom. The sheets had been pushed aside, sign that she probably intended to return after a nocturnal walk. Dick delicately settled her on the mattress and pulled the covers up.

That's when the situation took an even weirder turn: purple light suddenly surrounded the woman's body. Her mouth opened wide in a silent scream and she started thrashing.

"The fuck is going on!" Dick blurted, stunned.

"I have no idea sir. Shall I urge Zatanna over?"

Bruce gritted his teeth. As much as he loathed involving outsiders, he had no experience in magic. Then again, Zatanna was a friend, he could make an exception there.

"Do it," he ordered. The purple light turned so vivid it hurt his eyes. Alfred fled the room to find a comlink. Dick took a few cautious steps back.

The woman's body arched, her mouth contorted in pain and her fist flew upward…only to bust the headboard into pieces. The light suddenly vanished and the woman woke up, sitting straight all limbs shaking hard. Though on his guard, Bruce stepped in and approached her cautiously. He paused once she stilled and told Dick to turn on the lights. He almost wished he hadn't. The woman looked terrible with deep rings under her eyes, as if she hadn't caught a wink of sleep. Her hair was a mess, her breath erratic and her eyes darting around like a wild animal.

She was terrified.

"Hey," he called tentatively, and thought they really had to give her a name sometime. "Are you with us?"

The woman jerked, startled, and just as the previous morning, scrambled out of bed and stood back to the wall.

"It's alright," Bruce said softly. "You're safe here."

She flinched again, but didn't try to lunge for the window. Instead, her eyes met his and held on. Bruce couldn't help but find himself sucked into them. Sea blue, watching intensely like he held all the answers in this goddamn universe, like he was an anchor to her drifting boat.

"Do you recognize me?" he asked. The woman nodded. Her shoulders were starting to relax as she remembered where she was. A full minute later, she looked calmer; still unnerved, but under control.

"Can I come closer?"

Another short hesitation, but another nod. Bruce walked around the bed and stepped right out her personal space.

"Can I touch you?"

The question brought an interesting reaction to the woman. She stared sharply at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Then, she eyed his chest, bit her lower lip and slowly stared back at him. Bruce cleared his throat.

"I just want to make sure you're alright."

A small smile grew on her lips and she nodded. He pressed his fingers to her neck, took note of her pulse. It was rabbiting as he first suspected, but not as hard as he would have feared. He also noted her skin was soft and warm and from up close, she smelt like jasmine. Bruce quickly retrieved his hand and focused on something else: the smashed headboard. Her fist had gone through the old, hard wood like a knife through butter. When she had crashed in his garden, his first thoughts had been directed on her wellbeing. Then, he had been distracted by her fast healing. He hadn't considered she could possess other powers as well.

"Are you magic?" he asked, remembering the purple light. Given her grimace, he assumed it meant 'no'. Time for a change of tactics: "What were you dreaming about?"

The woman blinked a few times. The frown between her eyebrows was pronounced as if she tried to remember. And suddenly, she brightened. She almost tripped as she climbed over the bed to catch her notepad and scribed something on it. When she showed it with the pride of a child having gotten an excellent grade in class, he read one word.

_Diana._

"Diana?" he repeated. She nodded enthusiastically. "That's your name?" Her smile turned into a wild beam. She looked happy, like a kid on Christmas' day. "It's a pretty name."

She preened, though he suspected it was more the fact she had remembered it than his compliment that cheered her so. His eyes were inevitably drawn back to the headboard and he sobered. The woman –Diana- looked healthier now. Time to remedy to the neglect he had foolishly allowed so far.

"Would you mind if I ran you through a few tests?" he inquired. Diana blinked, puzzled. "I just want to know how much you can do." She followed his stare to the broken headboard and suddenly looked guilty. "Don't worry about that," he reassured her. "I'll have it replaced."

"I shall prepare another guest room, sir," Alfred said from the doorway. The two jumped, startled at his sudden return. "And shall I tell Miss Zatanna the situation is under control?"

"Have her come tomorrow anyway," Bruce replied. "I want to make sure there is no magical threat at play." He turned back to Diana, sobered. "What on earth were you doing downstairs?"

She lowered her eyes, biting her lips guiltily. Then she wrote down:

' _I was bored. I wanted to explore. I'm sorry, I meant no harm.'_

He sighed, ran a hand over his face to chase the tiredness he was certainly feeling.

"I assume you are still not tired in the least?" Diana nodded. "I'll give you some books. Hopefully it'll keep you busy till morning. Don't go wandering again," he warned.

This time, Diana pouted, and looked so adorable Bruce almost smiled. Almost.

**TKATA**

Zatanna had been a great ally and, if he dared say so, a greater friend over time. Still, he was nervous upon her arrival, fresh from her latest show in LA. Or rather, as fresh as one could be after months of late-night shows.

"Bruce!" she exclaimed happily and went to give him a hug. He wasn't a hugger, but Zatanna didn't care and as she was one of his rare friends, he allowed it. "How have you been?"

"Same old," he replied dryly and straight to the point. "I need your help."

Zatanna grinned knowingly.

"Why else would Bruce Wayne drag me out half a country away for a private show?" she patted his shoulder affectionately. "It's still nice to see you." Bruce grunted, but the light twist of the corner of his mouth was enough to indicate he felt the same. Knowing there would be still time to for catching up later, she asked: "So, what's your magical trouble?"

He thus explained what had occurred the past few days; the woman falling from the sky, his suspicions as its relation to the column of light and her potential background.

"I haven't tested her abilities yet, but from where I stand, I'd say she's invulnerable, possesses super-strength and must be proficient in blade weaponry. The injuries on her arms and the cuts on her body were deep, but suggested she knew how to fight back. I want to clear her from being magical before pursuing anything physical, in case I accidentally trigger a magic response."

Zatanna nodded in approval.

"That's sensible; I hope I'll be up to the task. Where is she now?"

"Watching Alfred bake his cookies. She's an addict."

The magician grinned.

"Everyone is an addict to Alfred's cookies; they are the best briberies. Come on Bruce, let's get this going."

**TKATA**

Diana watched with rapt attention as the cookies took a golden glow. She was standing vigil next to the oven, waiting anxiously for the time to be over, all the while trying to focus on a book Bruce had lent her. Though she wasn't hungry, she knew those treats could be eaten anytime and Alfred seemed to appreciate her eagerness to have more. She was still staring when Bruce and an unknown woman entered the kitchen. The newcomer was an adequately elegant and young woman, very pretty, and she was standing awfully close to Bruce.

A disagreeable feeling grew in her chest, like a pang of something she ought not to feel. Bruce annoyed her, he was always watching her, always scrutinizing her, as if she was an enigma or a catastrophe waiting to happen. Still, she wasn't used to have his attention directed elsewhere and her own irritation startled her.

"Can you come over Diana?" her host called, and she reluctantly left her spot to join them. "Let me introduce you to Zatanna. She's a good friend of mine and a magician. I want her to cast a few spells to make sure you don't have a tie with magic. Is that alright with you?"

Diana hesitated, stared at the woman instead. She was smaller than her, thin, not very athletic-looking but not weak either. She had gentle curves emphasized by her corset and high boots. Her eyes were friendly and her smile true, if a little curious.

"Hello Diana, it's nice to meet you," she said.

Diana shrugged but gave her a smile of her own: if Bruce could trust her, she could too.

"The cave?" Zatanna suggested. Her friendliness shifted immediately back to annoyance: the woman knew about that too?

"I have a spare room at the edge of the manor," Bruce replied quickly. "I can afford to have that one damaged."

The magician rolled her eyes and Diana frowned, wondering about the implication, but both women followed him without further complaint.

Said room was just a large one, bare of furniture. The windows gave into the back of the house, away from privy eyes.

"So much faith in my abilities Bruce," the dark-haired woman teased. Bruce rolled his eyes.

And then, she pulled a short black stick and pointed it at Diana.

Only Bruce's honed reflexes saved the magician from a broken wrist. Diana had instinctively tried to grab the stick to snap it into pieces, and his solid presence between the two women halted her attempt.

"You don't like magic," he growled. "I got that. But Zatanna is a friend and not a threat to you. You will behave, understood?"

Diana glared at him but nodded nonetheless. Zatanna kept smiling though she looked a little more nervous.

"It's only a detection spell," the magician reassured her. "If you are cursed, we'll know soon."

Diana wanted to tell her she wasn't cursed, thank you very much, but Bruce seemed insistent on finding out, so she reluctantly nodded her approval. The magician whispered a few words.

Nothing happened.

Zatanna hummed, said something else, and this time, a purple glow –very faint –wrapped her body. Diana stared at the magician expectantly. When the faint hue vanished, the woman was frowning.

"That's not good," she said out loud. "You are not cursed, but someone powerful put a spell on you. I suspect that's why you haven't been able to talk yet. See?" She made the same wave with her wand. The purple glow returned and something juggled Diana's memory. "You wouldn't remember crossing a witch or a wizard lately, wouldn't you?"

The question had been asked half-sarcastically, but Diana pondered over it for a moment. The name she thought she had dreamed up came back to mind. She hesitantly wrote down 'Circe?' on her pad. The name seemed to mean something to Zatanna, as the magician's jaw dropped low.

"Ho-shit! Seriously?" she blurted, stunned, and gave Diana another look. "Who  _are_  you?"

The amnesiac woman rolled her eyes.

' _That's what I would like to know too!' s_ he scribed angrily on the board.

"Who is Circe?" Bruce intervened promptly. Zatanna didn't bother glancing at him, too fascinated by Diana anyway.

"You read the Odyssey right? Powerful witch, semi-goddess old as time or something? There were rumors about her return on the network last month, but nothing certain yet," the magician said. She looked both intrigued and disappointed. "I doubt my magic is strong enough to go against hers…but I could trace her back to her hiding place."

Diana peeked up. Bruce didn't look particularly thrilled.

"Can you find her without alerting her?"

Zatanna rubbed her hands in anticipation.

"I should be able to pinpoint a general location…if only to know if she is still on Earth or if she had fled to another dimension." She prepared her wand, pronounced:

' _Ecric uoy era erehw'_

At first, nothing happened. Then, the purple glow returned, slowly enveloped Diana's body again. She suddenly felt her throat tightening, as if invisible hands were squeezing hard. She chocked, reached forward, but could find no hold. And then- Burning. She was burning. Dark flames were growing on her skin and attacking the purple glow from the inside. She tried to scream to no avail, her throat remained helplessly voiceless. She closed her eyes. The pain intensified, as if her body was the arena of a fierce battle between two opposites.

Her legs failed her and she stumbled down. She didn't hear Bruce shouting or Zatanna waving her wand. She only knew something was happening inside her, and it was choking her.

The pressure around her neck suddenly lifted. She took a huge gulp of air, coughing too fast.

"Diana!"

It took her a few seconds to realize Bruce was crouching next to her, one hand on her back, the other under her jaw, taking her pulse. She closed her eyes again, let his contact anchor her more in the present. When she opened them again, she saw the worry and the surprise on his face.

Probably because she was holding onto his shirt a little too tightly.

Diana felt her cheeks flush red and pulled away.

"Are you alright?"

She nodded, avoiding his gaze. His proximity hadn't bothered her the previous day; why would it now? Zatanna gasped, bringing her attention back on the other woman. The tip of her wand was waggling around, repeating the gesture she had done earlier again and again, but this time, without results.

"The curse is gone." She blurted, stunned. "I could have sworn –but –there's nothing left. That smoke –it ate the magic.  _Who the hell are you?_ "

Zatanna stared at Bruce at loss at what to do. Diana's shoulders slumped in defeat. Her curse might be gone, but so was the answer to the link between her and Circe. And now she had apparently dark smoke leaking from her body.

What on earth was going on?


	6. Chapter 6

**The Knight and the Amazon**

**6**

The fumes stirred her sense of smell and slowly roused her. Violet hair fell in disorder over her shoulders; her body felt slightly sore, but not overly so. Circe blinked, trying to gather her thoughts.

The last thing she remembered was being tickled by a minor tracking spell. Curiosity had gotten the best of her and she had glanced at the other side, to spot the caster. A miserable mortal. But what  _had_  delighted her was the company she was keeping. Diana of Themyscira.

In the thousand years she had been alive, Circe had never thought she could find someone to hate more than the Amazon Queen. Ulysses had been a close second, but Hippolyta –by banning her to Tartarus, had grabbed that status…until a few days ago.

Ares had found her after her release on parole, had sworn to protect her if she devoted herself to him. And she had. For a full year, she had put her magic to his service, had tripled her efforts when she learned about his plan to take over Themyscira. The battle itself had been glorious –she had sworn not to hurt Hippolyta, but hadn't sworn not to hurt her fellow warriors. An Amazon traitor had taken care of her enemy, soon to be killed by another. Everything was perfect. Until the Princess of the Amazons showed up and dueled the god of war itself. And  _won_.

The sight of her lover's decapitated head had rendered her furious. She had taken away the princess in the full intent of getting revenge in a quiet place, far away from the gods' protection, and then send her bloody corpse back to her people.

But Diana of Themyscira wasn't the Champion of the Amazons for nothing. She had somehow managed to escape her grasp and fly away from her influence. Circe just had the time to cast a hex on her before losing sight. For three days, she had searched earth, hoping to find where the wayward princess had landed.

And that tracking spell had led her right to her.

She thought she could end the Amazon then. She thought the simplest curse would complete her revenge. But something had gone terribly wrong. A darker counter-hex, far more powerful that the wretched mortal's magic, had devoured her own and pulled her…somewhere.

A very familiar somewhere, come to think of it. She recognized the scent of burning, the reddish rocks, the sculpted entrance leading to the palace of the Lord of the Underground.

Circe tightened her fists in anger. She had been brought to Tartarus. But  _how_?

"Well, well. I would say welcome back home, but I doubt anyone but me would call Tartarus home."

She stumbled to her feet and turned around. Sitting on his huge throne, Hades stared down at the witch with a smirk. His eyes though twinkled with rage. Circe put a knee down in a bow of submission. While she was a powerful witch and was supported by Heclate, even she knew better than provoke another god. Especially one who had complete control over the dead, and had been her jailer for centuries.

"My Lord, what am I doing here?"

That single question was the most impertinence she would attempt. Her disdain was obvious, but he was judge and executioner if everyone entered his territory. No matter his past deeds, no matter how arrogant and headstrong he might be, Hades was absolute master here.

"What are your last recollections, witch?"

Strangling the Amazon princess with her translucent hands. The unexpected spell breaking the connection. The dark spell…

She risked another glance at Hades. His face had taken an impassive stance and his eyes hardened.

" _You_ , my Lord?"

The god of the Underworld leant forward, eyes narrowed and graver than she had ever seen.

"Diana of Themyscira was sculpted from the clay of the shores of both Themyscira and Tartarus. I was only made aware recently that she had been brought to life…consequences of having little news of the outside world. If Zeus can demand from Hippolyta to spare his son from a death he certainly deserved, why shouldn't I intervene in kind for my only daughter?" he asked rhetorically.

Circe felt a drop of sweat sliding down her forehead. Zeus's partiality to his own children was well-known. Hades had no heir to speak of. If the princess of the Amazon truly was his…A snort of disbelief came from the back of her throat. It didn't matter in the end; she still would have tried to kill the princess. Still would try, if she ever got out of here.

"You broke the terms of your parole," he went on. "As per agreed, you will return to your cell until  _I_  see fit to release you." Now that didn't sound good. "Any last words?"

She opened her mouth. Hades snapped his fingers. The witch vanished from his sight, immediately transported to the cell he had specially designed for her. No-one messed with Hades' child, not if he had a say in it.

**TKATA**

Zatanna left rather abruptly. They were in the middle of lunch when she received what Diana heard to be an 'emergency call' because she was 'on duty', and was teleported out of sight.

Diana had, surprisingly, regretted her departure. Bruce had left her in the company of Dick to do some work of his own, and didn't return until four in the afternoon. By that time, she knew the outland of the manor, some secret hideouts and a few funny stories Dick told her.

The clock was ticking five when he demanded –politely –that she followed him so he could 'evaluate' her.

"Zatana said you were no longer under any kind of spell, black smoke withstanding," he told her. "I would like to know your limits." Alfred gave a small cough in the background. Bruce bit back a grimace and added: "If that's alright with you."

Diana had then asked what the 'evaluation' would consist of. Mostly testing her resistance and endurance in physical efforts. Also perhaps a scan of her body if they had time left. She suspected he meant, if he hadn't tried her patience yet, but didn't pointed it out. She agreed, if only because she was curious too.

He led her to the bottom of the cave, where they walked straight past the electronic material further down into a large room. Dummies for target practice were hung against the wall. A large matt and a handful of machineries stood on the side.

First, he made her lift what he called weights. When she was done piling them and lifting them in one hand, he grumbled something and directed her to another machine. This time, he had her running on a moving rug for at least twenty minutes. When she didn't show sign of exhaustion, he gave up.

And then, he pulled out a rope from his stuff.

"Let's try something else. I'm going to bind you now. Try to get out."

She could tear through walls. Ropes weren't going to hold her down. When her eyes translated her thoughts, he rolled his eyes.

"Humor me Diana."

She handed out her wrists. The rope was tied in complicated knots around her wrists. Bruce stepped back, nodded, and waited. Diana  _physically_  felt her strength leaving her. Her wrists were tied but she couldn't break the rope. She struggled, her heart suddenly beating faster, pulling hard and –she couldn't break her bound, what on earth was happening-

"Calm down!" Bruce called sharply. "Here, let me untie you."

Diana forced herself to stand stiff as he unbounded his work and let the rope fall on the side. Her strength returned, flowing back into her body. She immediately ran to the closest wall and gave it a mean punch. It didn't hurt, and her fist busted the rock effortlessly.

"I'd appreciate if you didn't do that very often," Bruce said wryly. She shrugged apologetically, but couldn't regret not testing her strength. "So…tying you up renders you powerless."

Diana didn't like the analytical tone of his voice, nor the sudden coolness in his face.

"Diana," he suddenly spoke again, prompting her to look at him. "I won't tell anyone, trust me on that."

He might not tell, but he would  _know_. She wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"One last thing, and then we're done. Do you know how to fight?"

Still rubbing her wrists uneasily, she shrugged. She must have, if she had been wearing a helmet. Unless she was a terrible fighter. Bruce seemed to believe she could, as he picked up two batons and handed one to her.

"Let's start with something safe –for me," he added with a hint of humor. Diana chuckled, knowing he was referring to her super strength and fast healing.

They stood face to face. Bruce fell in position, posed to strike. She mirrored him, and began.

The fight turned out surprisingly fair: Diana had obviously better physical abilities with speed and strength on her side, but Bruce wasn't a martial arts master for nothing. After two minutes of twirling around, he knew she had to have some basic training. After she hit him unexpectedly in the ribs, he realized she wasn't going fully out in fear of hurting him.

"Don't hold back," he snapped, and came harder on her.

Diana fought back with more insurance, doubtlessly reacting on instinct. And he had to admit, she was good. Her skills seemed to grow with every ticking second and experience or not, he soon had to focus more to keep her from beating  _him_. Eventually, they came to stalemate. Not by choice, as Dick came to interrupt them, but it turned out just as well. Bruce didn't want to find out too hard how far she could go in that domain.

**TKATA**

"Do you have a plan?"

Donna glanced over her shoulder. Artemis was sitting behind in the invisible jet, looking sour and in a poor mood. Donna suspected she was just hiding her uneasiness.

"More or less," the younger woman replied. "I know how the man keeping Diana looks like," she went on: "From his accent, I'd say he lives in the States. A few of Diana's allies in Man's World live there. I'm thinking of this other woman coming from a different planet. They are friends, sort of. She owes Diana a debt. I'll start with her."

Artemis grunted.

"And what is that precious ally's quality? Did you even meet her?"

"Not really. I mean, I know she was the former chief of the guards in charge of protecting the leader of some dark planet and that she deflected and sought refuge on Earth. Diana was in Man's World then and offered her to join the Amazons, but she declined, quoting too many wars already. Diana said she looked interested though, and thought she could draw her over in a decade or so."

"And what is that warrior's name?"

"Barda. She lives near New York." Pause. "It's a…big city."

Artemis hadn't been in Man's World for a few centuries. The last time, she had been accompanying Alexa and had caused quite a ruckus in a few villages. Queen Hippolyta had categorically refused to let her return anytime soon. Diana though had promised they'd return together, if only so she could keep an eye on her favorite princess.

"Artemis," Donna went on: "A lot of things have changed in Man's World. It's only been two decades since I've joined you, but the thing is, I need you to let me do the talking, alright?"

The redhead rolled her eyes again.

"Fine," she said. "But I get to throw the first fist."

"Deal."

They landed on top of a hill, dominating a large park. The invisible jet wouldn't bother anyone in its spot. The two Amazons had just stepped on ground when Donna asked:

"Say Artemis, were you and Di…"

Her voice trailed off.

"Were we what?" Artemis repeated irritated.

"An item?"

The redhead glared at the younger woman.

"What does it have to do with anything?"

"I was just curious."

Artemis' scowl deepened. While Donna could be impulsive and young, she never asked that kind of question randomly, especially to  _her_.

"Why?"

"I think Diana and the man are…getting along. You get jealous easily," Donna shrugged. "And I know you secretly backed Diana more than you supported Hippolyta. It was just a random thought, honest."

The redhead huffed in annoyance. It didn't matter if Donna was right, but it had been centuries ago, and short in terms of Amazon years.

Unbeknown to the late queen, Diana had been far from innocent over the years. Artemis could name a handful of lovers –not as many as one would think, but more than some might suspect –mostly prompted by curiosity or boredom. She liked to think Diana had genuinely liked her, as she would keep returning to seek her company even after their separation. Rivals they might have been, but trust the princess to turn whatever feeling one might have for her into flawless loyalty. Even when Hippolyta had been queen, Artemis had known where she would stand if a rift ever happened between mother and daughter.

A sudden thought occurred to her as they made way down to civilization, a thought that had her spine shiver in dread.

"Donna," she said urgently. "Can you feel if Diana has any  _stirrings_  towards that man?"

The princess was easy to love and without her memories, she would not recall the dangerousness of men. She trusted Diana to care for herself, but if she felt indebted or was seduced…who knew what might happen between the two? What if he laid with her? What if he gave her a child? A daughter would be an acceptable outcome, but a male? The Amazons would never, ever accept this.

"Artemis, is something wrong?"

"We need to find the princess fast," she replied. Too many probabilities were growing in her mind and her overthinking things did her no favors. The princess would not be stupid enough to fall into the clutches of a man…would she?

**TKATA**

Diana shifted around in her bed uneasily. Today had been filled with so many events, so many things that left her speechless and asking for more. The lifted hex, her apparent fighting skills, the loss of her powers when bounded…Too many questions left without answers. She now wished Zatanna had stayed longer, even though the magician had promised to do some research on her end.

Another resigned sigh later, she rolled off the bed and stepped downstairs. Now that Bruce knew she knew something about his secret, she didn't think he'd mind if she took a stroll in the manor.

Her steps led her back in the living room, next to the couch facing the grandmother clock that led to the cave. Diana hesitated briefly, and decided not to return there. Bruce had let her off the first time, even though she had been breaching his privacy. She doubted he would show the same leniency the second time around.

Unless…

She turned the needles until it opened and stepped down the stairs. Alfred stood behind the large computer screens, watching through the eyes of his employer as he seemed to fly between buildings. He glanced over his shoulder when she arrived. Diana waved at him.

"Couldn't sleep, Miss Diana?" she shook her head. "And still no voice?"

Another shake. She gestured instead at her forehead, mimicked a helmet and then her whole body, hoping he would catch her drift.

"Outfit?" the butler guessed. She nodded. "Another out- oh, do you wish to know where your outfit is?"

Diana smiled sheepishly, trying to convey she hoped her request didn't bother him. Alfred left his seat and headed to a darker corner of the cave, where all kind of stuff seemed to be exposed. He pulled the drawer of one of the rare closets and retrieved a large box.

"Everything is in here, Miss Diana. You can bring it back upstairs, if you wish for more quiet."

Just as he spoke, the speakers let Bruce's voice echo in the room:

"Alfred, do you see this?"

Apparently something interesting must have come up. The butler shot her an apologetic glance and returned to his seat.

Diana took no offence and made her way back to the stairs.

"There is a button on the left edge," Alfred warned her. "Good night Miss Diana."

She nodded back at him. Once she was back in the living-room –after carefully searching for said button –she put the box on the couch and opened the lid.

The costume had been folded. The helmet and boots set on the side. Diana caressed the red fabric with reverence. Here in the silence, alone in the darkness, she felt more solemn, more…quiet. She closed her eyes and-

_Her hands were trembling as she adjusted the breastplate. She took the helmet and set it firmly on her forehead. She had often dreamed of this moment, of putting the armor of the Champion of the Amazons and receiving its attributes from the hands of her mother. An official acknowledgment of her being the strongest warrior in front of the Queen and the gods who helped creating her. But her mother had been stabbed in the back and had died in her arms. Now, she was Queen and needed to stop Ares. The strong smells of fire and blood were imbuing the palace; traces of battle embedded the walls. None of it had reached the Sacred Rooms yet. Outside, her sisters were giving their lives to buy her precious time. Footsteps echoed in the empty halls, but she didn't worry; she knew to whom belonged the hurried pace._

_The sword was hanging with its shield on the wall, calling to her. She pulled the handle, the blade from its sheath. For years it had been left unused for not forgotten, taken out for official ceremonials. The Godkiller, forged by the hands of Hephaestus and blessed by Athena themselves._

" _I'm the only one who can do this", she said determinedly, shouldering the sword and the shield. "I will slay Ares and put an end to the war."_

_The newcomer stood silent at the entrance of the room. If she turned around, she knew what she would see. Pity and compassion for her, rage and hate for the situation._

" _Her Majesty would be very proud of you, Princess."_

_Respect and awe. Hope and determination. She closed her eyes, breathed in. Snapped them open and walked out. Her sisters needed her. She would answer their call._

Her cheeks felt wet, her tongue tasted salt on her lips. Diana buried her face in the red fabric, inhaled deeper. The memories faded again in the back of her mind but the most important lingered. There had been a war. She had been in the middle of a war. She had to face someone –Ares. People –sisters –were relying on her. Someone…someone had called her princess. Her mother…

Her mother was dead. People she knew had perished. People had relied on her to save them. And she was a princess? Who were her people? Where were they? Why was she alone and isolated from them? Had she succeeded in saving them? Had they all died?

A sob shook her body. Her grip on the cloth tightened. Tears wet the fabric. An animalistic sound echoed from the back of her throat and she wished she could have screamed. Diana fell on her knees, prostrated, face to the ground. The pain she felt now was not merely physical; it was like her soul was coming apart.

Bruce wasn't there to stare. She didn't think she would have had the strength to bear the weight of his eyes. The thought made her lie on her side, curled into a fetal position. The tears kept coming, she kept her face buried into the red fabric. Eventually, she felt herself dozing off.

She might have imagined the shadow that stepped in her room. Except that the dark boots that stopped in front of her eyes were very real, as were the grey and black calves and the flapping cape around his ankles. They smelt like rain and dust and sweat. She didn't move, couldn't care less. Strong arms came behind her shoulders, others under her knees. She was lifted against a strong chest –grey, with an odd shape in the middle –and instinctively curled against it. It was warm, humid, but solid and real. Diana relaxed, allowed the man to carry her back upstairs and lay her on the bed. When she cracked an eye open, it fell on a black cowl with white lens instead of eyes. The lower half of the face was uncovered. A gloved hand caressed her cheek –brushed away a strand of hair. She shivered at the contact but didn't shy away.

"You're safe here, Princess."

The voice sounded different, but she wasn't fooled. It was Bruce. Always Bruce. Always lurking, always watching, always scrutinizing…always putting up with her moody and rude reactions. Did all men have the same patience? She couldn't answer that. Still, she liked the way he called her 'princess'. Not that she would ever tell him. She maintained eye contact as long as his hand hovered over her cheek. When he stood again, his cape hiding his arms like a curtain, she finally closed her eyes. The clothes were still pressed against her face but she felt safe. She was safe. He would be watching. He wouldn't let anything happen to her. Upon these thoughts, she drifted away into a peaceful sleep.


End file.
